


Ninth Spiral

by ironbutterfly25



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Manipulative Relationship, Memory Loss, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sleep Sex, Sleeping Beauty Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 15:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16098410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironbutterfly25/pseuds/ironbutterfly25
Summary: Waking up to him, she began her descent and her ascension. [Pre-RE5 AU]





	Ninth Spiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another re-upload! I thought I already reposted all of my old works here! ;D
> 
> Prologue is inspired by Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty Quartet~

 

_"Softly rip me up_

_Gently embrace me_

_Kindly save me"_

* * *

A little over two years.

The file before him recorded the start of her stay in cryostasis —  _August 30, 2006_.

He scribbled the end date of her 'treatment' at the top of the page —  _September 7, 2008_.

He had almost forgotten about her existence. The only thing that set her apart from the other experiments was the fact that he knew her before.

She was just a test subject with a corresponding number...

And a name.

 _Jill Valentine_.

* * *

Uroboros consumed most of his time.

It was perfect with how lethal it had become.

Uroboros wasted most of his time.

It continued to fail its purpose — the selection of the worthy.

It remained a puzzle in need of its lost piece.

A code needed to be cracked. A mystery needed to be solved.

Jill's blood could  _temper_  its lethality.

* * *

He had almost forgotten how she looked like.

The researchers took her out of the stasis chamber. On a steel bed, they laid her out for his inspection and secured metal restraints on her limbs.

She could easily be mistaken for a corpse.

Skin starch white. Hair lackluster and dry.

Her breaths were too soft and shallow.

The sound of chatter around him increased. Every lab rat in the room seemed to have something to say _about her_.

"Leave."

Assistance was no longer required.

* * *

Stillness surrounded her.

Her vitals were stable. But she wouldn't wake.

He freed her from the cuffs after a while of observation. His fingers brushed a few stray strands of blonde hair so pale, it appeared almost white under the bright lights.

The chill of her skin seeped into his gloves.

He snatched his hand away after a long minute or two.

Disturbed by the sense of  _calm_  emanating from her.

* * *

Nothing could disrupt her silence.

Not the howling of the Lickers. Nor the raging of the Majinis.

Various mutagens were tested on her. But she persevered, sweating the infections like they were nothing but a seasonal flu, and sleeping on in peace.

Half of him hoped she would turn like Lisa Trevor. Half of him hoped  _not_.

The scientists had developed a  _fascination_  for her, submitting requests to acquire her as their subject, and brimming with confidence that  _with her_ — a  _breakthrough_  was within reach.

He ordered them to take her out of the laboratory and bring her to his private quarters.

It seemed he had found a suitable  _partner_.

* * *

Eight days.

It had been eight days since he tried to stir her from slumber.

She lay on his unused sheets, barely clothed and attached to the right apparatus to provide her sustenance.

Every night he spent some time studying her.

But this night, a mistake was made.

 _He touched her_.

* * *

The coolness of her body  _roused_  him.

It had been such a long time.

And it was so instantaneous that the feeling caught him by surprise.

He had forgone nourishment, respite, and  _sex_  after his rebirth.

A god had  _no need_  for those.

* * *

Eyelashes so pale and long they tickled her cheeks. He traced the shape of her face with a gloved finger.

It was as if he was seeing her for the very first time.

Thumbing the pout of her lips, he briefly wondered if she could taste the leather.

There was no change on the rise and fall of her chest.

How long would it take until she wakes?

* * *

He palmed a full breast. The peak was a pale rose.

Her skin held a coldness against his warm hand,  _slowly_  dissipating.

She melted against him.

* * *

An experimental press.

Her flesh was heating up.

He rubbed her nipple between his fingers until it pebbled.

Before he dared to steal a breath from her mouth.

* * *

He didn't expect her to wake with  _his kiss_.

But he still found himself affronted by the aftermath.

Her flimsy gown was fixed back in place, all the while he was wrestling with  _his own want_.

* * *

A picture of her dirtied with mud and blood entered his mind.

He never took her for a self-sacrificing one.

She had always been composed and level-headed.

Practical even.

Like him.

Practical Al — Marcus had called him once.

Now he had  _Practical Jill_ in his hands.

Useful to him in more ways than one.

* * *

Ninety-nine percent death rate. The nines glowed red while a single number glowed green.

A  _one percent_  difference was unimaginable before.

But here they were.

Around  _sixty eight million_  people would survive.

All because of her.

* * *

He disliked the  _arousal_  that build in him whenever she came to his line of sight.

A loss of control over her meant one thing.

She was  _somehow_  gaining power over him.

And he could not allow such a scenario.

* * *

It was a kind of  _torment_ , watching her sleep.

Pure and unmoved.

And he was  _unbearably hard_  where he sat a few feet away from her.

His hand brushed against the strain in his pants, breath hitching at the contact. His eyes never left her still form as his fingers slid over the throbbing flesh under his clothes.

He didn't let himself release.

For he liked the  _punishing_  thrill of it all.

* * *

She started invading his thoughts on times where in he was most occupied.

Agitation came first before realization.

 _She was his_.

He could do with her as he pleased.

* * *

His decision now made.

He came to her.

His hands were steady as each button on her sleepshirt was undone. Polished lilac was a lovely color on her pallid complexion.

She was almost alive...

Like a flower in spring.

* * *

Not an inch of her went untouched.

He was nearly inexperienced in his lust.

The tips of her breasts hardened with his lips and his spit.

Her body responded to his need.

His nails scratched over the thin strip of hair on her mound. She was  _moist_  to the touch. His digits parted her labia, sliding on that delicate bundle of nerves, pulling the clitoral hood so he could stroke the sensitive glans.

 _Stimulating her_.

He wanted to stretch her cunt with his fingers.

But he believed he could  _open her up_  well enough with his cock.

* * *

She was mostly bitter on his tongue with that chemical taste.

The only noises in the room were the wet sounds made by his lapping mouth that went along with his hungry groans.

The insides of her thighs were so smooth... smooth like satin. He littered that smoothness with bruising bites.

She made little noises of her own, nearly imperceptible without his enhanced senses.

She was  _feeling everything_  and that knowledge urged him more than it should.

* * *

The initial thrust tore into her, making her bleed around him.

He chose a pace not too hurried despite his desire burning.

He was sweating... and so was she.

She lay  _lifeless_  and  _full of life_  beneath him.

* * *

He gave her his seed, filled her to overflowing.

Kissing her slightly parted lips, he knew he was far from done.

And with a roll of his hips, the previous rhythm resumed.

* * *

He had her for hours.

And he thought that it would be  _enough_.

His curiosity satisfied.

He only found himself  _eager for more_.

* * *

For three consecutive nights, he sought gratification with her body.

It was almost telling with the tinge of pink on her skin.

He was fucking her awake.

* * *

Her eyes moved restlessly behind her lids. Brows furrowing together. Lashes fluttering.

She finally gazed at him, panting above her.

He came undone with the sight of  _clouded pleasure_  on her face.

* * *

Breathing even again, he claimed her lips in a chaste kiss.

And in her confused state, she reciprocated.

The small action caused him to deepen the touch, tongue teasing the seam of her lips.

A smile bloomed on his mouth when her tongue shyly met his.

"Did you rest well, my dear?"

* * *

_"How short a time the fire of love endures in a woman_

_if frequent sight and touch do not rekindle it."_

_― Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio_

 


End file.
